Fly Me to Church
by TRikiD
Summary: Everyone in the world starts out as a blank slate, and they're taught the rights and wrongs of this world. Well, Dusty indulges in something most frowned upon when he falls in love with Ripslinger, and ignores all outside forces trying to keep them apart.
1. Chapter 1 - Too Many Lies

Fly Me to Church

Chapter 1 - Too Many Lies

Propwash Junction, where our story begins with two hearts from two completely different sides of the track.

Dusty Crophopper was an infamous inhabitant of the small town, for his father was the best crop duster they had had in years. And since the feats of a father were usually passed down to son, most had high expectations that Dusty wouldn't hesitate to follow in his father's flight path.

Rick Slinger was a single child and a lone orphan in the foster system, with nothing but his ego and arrogance. Sadly, he never knew his father or mother, and so little respect was given to him due to the lack of reliability and history with the town.

Yet to tame Rick's vulgar nature, all he needed was a true friend. And Dusty happily took that position. Yes, as unlikely as it seemed, Dusty and Rick secretly became fast friends, but their friendship did not start out smooth.

Dusty had many good friends, and even though he had never met Rick in person, he heard many rumors of his untrustworthy nature and it's wise to avoid him like the plague. The young crop duster didn't know what to think about that; he didn't want to break the trust of the friends he already has, but he also couldn't stand a poor, unfortunate orphan like Rick to be without friendship.

Most young inhabitants of Propwash knew that Rick's favorite spot to hang out was a remote cliff edge with a small grotto and waterfall that ran off the edge, creating a beautiful rainbow down below. And when Dusty had the willpower to come to this place on his own, he realized why Rick loved this place so.

But the main reason the crop duster came here was nowhere to be seen.

"Heya, Crophopper!" Dusty jumped at his name being called in mockery, but he quickly looked up to find a dark greed plane, not much older than him, flying through the air like a professional racer. Dusty had almost completely forgotten that it was Rick Slinger, and instead was captivated by his brilliant flying.

"You're amazing!" Dusty called in awe, just as Rick performed an awesome barrel roll and soon landed afterwards.

"Well, yeah! I'm just surprised it took ya this long ta recognize my awesomeness," Rick boasted with a smirk, "So, what're ya doing here, Dusty?"

"A-Actually…wait, how do you know my name?"

"Your dad's, like, the only crop duster in town, aside from the crazy old Leadbottom, and this town knows nothing but fertilizer and corn. Who _doesn't_ know you?"

"Point taken. Anyway, I just wanted to actually meet you. My friends talk about you sometimes, and I just don't get it…"

"Don't get what?"

"I-I don't think I should say…" Dusty shrunk back at the thought of telling Rick that everyone thought of him as a rapscallion, and that no family would ever want him.

"Eh, alright. I've gotta practice my incredible moves, anyway." There was nothing but carelessness in Rick's voice, as his propeller revved once more and he turned to take off.

"Wait! You're not gonna beat me up, or push me off a cliff, or-?" It was far too late before Dusty realized he had done the one thing he told just himself not to. But unlike he had predicted, Rick responded with a hearty laugh instead of acting brash.

"Oh, come on! You really think I don't hear the stupid things everyone says about me?" Rick chuckled and turned back around, his propeller slowing to a stop, "Lemme tell ya somethin', Kid: I tend to look out for me, myself, and I, yes—but I ain't a monster."

Dusty was stunned, "Really? So…would you like to be…I dunno…?"

"Yeah, I guess we could hang out," Rick quickly replied, and playfully punched Dusty's side with a wing, "But first, you gotta pass initiation."

"Initiation? I need to pass an initiation to be your friend?" Dusty questioned in disbelief.

"Yup. C'mere." Dusty followed Rick in confusion, but was intrigued, nonetheless; they stopped at the edge of the cliff right next to the waterfall, and Rick quickly jumped to the other side of the creek.

"All you gotta do is pull up when I do," Rick instructed while staring over the cliff with an excited grin.

"Wait, what? We're diving?! You can't be serious!" Dusty protested in fear.

"You wanna prove yer friends wrong, about me being a lying, cheating jerk, right?"

"Y-Yeah…"

"Well then, you're gonna have ta trust me."

"I-I trust you, it's just that…" Dusty was unable to finish his sentence when he finally looked down, and the whole world started spinning.

"Ain't no time like the present, Buddy!" Rick called and before Dusty knew it, he was shoved off the cliff, and plummeted into a nosedive alongside the waterfall.

Before long, Rick was on the other side of the falling water and whooped in pure joy, "Not _this_ is livin', Dusty!"

But when he never heard a reply from the crop duster, Rick was suddenly worried and looked to his left, only to find Dusty's eyes wider than dinner plates and his propeller was completely stiff. He was frozen.

"Hey, Dusty, wake up!" Still no answer. "You're gonna crash, WAKE UP!"

As Rick shouted over the wind, the ground grew closer and closer, and so would Dusty's demise if Rick didn't act fast. But he acted without thinking, and suddenly yanked his nose up and made a hard turn to hit Dusty hard enough to break him out of the dive.

Luckily, he was successful and Dusty was pulled into a glide just in time, and he finally snapped out of it before landing somewhat roughly. Soon after, Rick in front of him and his eyes rapidly scanned over him for any injuries.

"Crap! I didn't think you'd stall! You're not hurt, are you?!" Rick asked frantically.

"No, no…I think I'm ok…and you saved my life," Dusty breathed in awe.

"But I also endangered it. I…I'm sorry. You, uh…won't tell anyone about this, will you? The last thing I need is ta get inta trouble with the foster system…again."

"Don't worry, I won't say anything. Besides, it wasn't all your fault. Granted, you shouldn't have pushed me in the first place, but it's only because you didn't know—I'm afraid of heights."

Rick's eyes widened in surprise, "But you're a plane."

"I'm also a crop duster. I barely fly higher than the cornstalks," Dusty admitted in embarrassment, a red tint covering his face, "I'll never be as good a flier as you. You're just so much braver—I don't think you deserve a fraidy cat like me as a friend."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Rick snapped and pulled in front of him, "I never said I still didn't wanna be your friend."

"But I didn't pass initiation."

"Exactly. I can teach you to be a better flier."

"Wha…you'd do that?"

"Sure. And honestly, I've kinda always wanted an apprentice ta pass on all my wisdom and skills." Dusty couldn't help but chuckle when Rick smiled and rose up in such pride.

* * *

Their friendship remained rather sturdy over the years, and each of them gave the other something they always wanted; Rick needed a true friend, and Dusty needed someone to trust and to learn from. Sure, his other friend Chug tried to help, but how could a truck help a plane with flying?

Anyway, the only real downside of their friendship was that they kept it secret, as Rick didn't want to risk Dusty's other friendship's just for his. _As if they couldn't be more wrong about him_ , Dusty constantly thought.

After a while, Dusty was torn by what he was believe to be right and expected of in reality…and his growing affection towards Rick. He couldn't find the strength to tell anyone about this; not his friends, not his family, and especially not Rick himself. He would just die if he found out.

He continued to hide it quite well, but never hesitated to try and improve his relationship with Rick; he even tried to give him subtle signs of his love, such as gently touching wingtips while flying, snuggling up underneath him, and even humming cheesy love songs under his breath.

Sadly, it seemed Rick could never take a hint, so Dusty remained hopelessly smitten; though, with Valentine's Day coming up, those late-teen hormones left him as nervous as a dog going to the vet. He wondered if it would be weird to ask Rick to be his Valentine…

"You're awfully quiet. What's wrong, Duster?" The familiar voice of Chug pulled Dusty from his thoughts, as the two left the school building to go home for the day.

"N-Nothing…" Dusty lied sheepishly.

Chug squinted in suspicion, "Uh-huh—you're worried about the Valentine's Day Dance comin' up, aren't you?"

"What? No, no! Of course not!"

"You can't get inta the dance without a date, and anyone who doesn't show up is, supposedly, a loser. So, you've got two choices. You either awkwardly ask someone out, or you just don't show up and your reputation amongst our sophomore peers is destroyed. If that won't make your oil run cold, I don't know what will."

"Yeah, I'm starting to think that you're trying to _make_ me go to the dance with someone," Dusty pointed out with a sneer.

"Dottie and I are goin', but just as friends. We don't want you ta miss out, and it sure as hell wouldn't be fun without you," Chug explained with a smirk, "So, if you had ta ask anyone, who would it be?"

"I…"

Just then, the loud sound of a plane flying by overhead could be heard, and the crop duster and the fuel truck looked up to find none other than Rick racing by. This had to have been the fastest Dusty had ever seen him fly, and he wondered if he was just showing off, as usual, or if he was in a hurry to get somewhere. If the latter was true, then what could be so important?

"That Rick guy is such a recluse," Chug stated out of the blue, a sneer on his face.

"I know, right?" Dusty agreed, as he knew that Rick really did like to be alone a lot. But to Chug, he thought his friend was only agreed in the gossip.

"Ya know, I heard his dad raped his mom, and then he killed his own father when he found out."

Dusty's eyes went wide in disbelief, "W-What?"

"Yeah, but that's not the worst part. Just before he was put in the system, his mom committed suicide."

"Why?!"

"I dunno. I guess she was just too afraid, not that I blame her."

"You don't actually believe all that stuff about him, do you?" Dusty's mind quickly filled with rage from all the lies about his own friend and mentor.

"You don't? I'm serious, you shouldn't trust him. Why do you think he's never had a friend before? I bet he murdered them all, too."

* * *

Dusty couldn't stand to hear all of these rumors anymore, let alone let them keep festering over Propwash Junction. So, to make things right between the whole town and Rick, Dusty decided he would show everyone the true Rick, the Rick he came to befriend and love.

He headed to the foster home in which Rick lived and gained permission to visit his room; all of Rick's belongings were still there, but there was still no Rick. But if he wasn't here, then there was only one other place he could be.

Meanwhile, night hung over the skies while the full moon shown brightly, and the moonlight glistened off of Rick's green paint as he sat alone in his grotto. He had had enough. Enough of these lies about him, about the uncalled for disrespect towards him…and enough of the corruption Dusty was most likely succumbing to.

"If you've come to stop me, it's not gonna work," Rick firmly protested as soon as Dusty silently approached from behind.

"Stop you? I came to help you," Dusty informed.

"With what?"

"With this rocky relationship with everyone in town. They keep saying such horrible things about you."

"Exactly!" Rick suddenly whipped around and scowled at the crop duster. "When it comes ta me, they see nothing but a liar and a criminal! I'm sick of it! It won't matter what you do, nothing's gonna change!"

"But I can at least try. Please, just give me a chance."

"Sorry. Not interested. Never will be." With that, Rick drove around Dusty, as his propellers revved violently.

"Wait, where are you going?!" Dusty shouted.

"As far away from this hellhole as possible," Rick growled evilly, and it was so low that Dusty almost couldn't make it out. And before he had time to ask again, Rick hastily took off and flew into the night, his silhouette traveling over the moon in a brilliant banking turn.

But as admiral as his flying skills had always been, Dusty just couldn't himself to smile; not when he had just lost the only one who ever managed to earn his heart.

* * *

 **Yes, the title is a pun of the song "Take Me to Church" by Hozier. Be sure to check out the song, as well as the Planes movies. Basically, I own nothing.**

 **Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!**


	2. Chapter 2 - Why I Tried

Chapter 2 - Why I Tried

After all of these years, much to his dismay, Rick Slinger slowly but surely faded from Dusty's memories; although, he did have one thing to remember his first crush by: The dream to become a world-champion flier. Rick truly inspired him to better his flight skills, and prove to everyone that he was more than just a crop duster—just as he was more than what the rumors said he was.

And that's what kept that flame going; Dusty did it for Rick's honor, his personality, his thoughts. That's what it's always been for.

But some still argued with Dusty about this, such as Dottie and Skipper, both saying he should just stick to low altitudes and corn fields. Not that it mattered. Their ranting fell upon deaf ears, and Dusty and Chug managed to convince Dottie to come with them to the Wings around the Globe Qualifier.

And as soon as they arrived, Dusty and Chug were overwhelmed when they saw some of the other unique and magnificent types of planes that were there for the try outs, too.

"Ladies and gentleplanes, may we have your attention, please?" a loud voice announced, and the crowd turned towards two planes with perfectly inverted green and white colors.

The plane that spoke first was Ned, the green plane with white wings, "Direct your eyes to the heavens above, and give a warm welcome to our special guest—the Prince of Propellers, when he's speeding, he's leading, when he's grinnin', he's winnin'…"

As Ned went on, a green blur flew across the sky with a trail of green smoke following close behind, and he did a full loop around the airport before landing and skidding to a halt through the barrier of smoke that descended to the ground.

"Ripslinger!" the Racing Mustang shouted with utmost pride, and those with cameras instantly fluttered around him to get a good picture, "Thanks for comin' out! Who wants a picture?"

Ripslinger laughed while his teammates, Ned and Zed, followed close behind to greet their fans. But some weren't so impressed by his choice of advertisement.

"Well, with all this advertising, at least he's modest," Dottie growled sarcastically, coughing and waving away some of the excess smoke.

"Dottie, that's Ripslinger," Dusty quickly pointed out, a large smile plastered on his face.

"He's captain of Team RPX. They call him…" Chug began with excitement, letting Dusty join him, "The Green Tornado!"

"Oh, he's so awesome, he's pre…" Dusty was about to continue, awestruck by all the good things he heard about Ripslinger through media, but then he lost his voice for a moment, "…qualified."

"You ok, Dusty?" Chug asked out of concern.

There was no response from the crop duster; he just kept staring at Ripslinger with wide eyes. Unknowingly, he started listening in on a conversation between Ripslinger and a fan.

"I-I know it's kinda unorthodox for me ta say this, Mr. Ripslinger, but I only heard of you until just now. C-Can I still get an autograph?" a female plane shyly requested, as she presented a blank notebook up to the racer.

"Of course! But I _am_ surprised it took you this long to recognize my awesomeness," Ripslinger chuckled and gladly gave her an autograph.

And that's when realization finally came to Dusty. That personality, that voice, that body; it all rang a loud bell in Dusty's head, and it screamed Rick Slinger.

"I don't believe it," Dusty muttered, his eyes still glued to Ripslinger.

"Don't believe what?" Dottie inquired.

"You guys remember that one orphan kid, Rick?"

"Uh-huh," Chug slowly replied, and Dottie nodded in agreement.

"Well, I'm absolutely certain that _that's_ him." The fuel truck and forklift followed Dusty's gaze, but were surprised to find that he was referring to Ripslinger.

"No, it can't be," Dottie scoffed in disbelief.

"Oh, my God! It _is_ him!" Chug gasped in shock after taking a closer look, "How'd you know it was him, Dusty?"

"I don't know…what should I do?" Dusty asked shakily.

"What do you mean, what shout you do? You ain't got time ta worry about some bully, you've got a race ta qualify for!" Chug firmly pointed out.

"As mush as it pains me to say it, he's right. If you wanna win, you can't let Ripslinger, or even Rick, get to you. Ok, Dusty?" Dottie added just as sternly, even looking directly into the crop duster's blue eyes.

"Yeah, ok," was all Dusty could say, as the thought of performing in front of his teacher and childhood crush heavily lingered.

* * *

The sun started to go down before it was Dusty's turn, and he was filled to the brim with apprehension. What if he clipped a pylon? What if his engine exploded? What if he crashed?

The last thing he wanted to do was fail in front of Ripslinger.

"From Propwash Junction, Strut Jetstream!" Roper, a forklift that announced and judged for the qualifier, announced with high expectations of the last contestant, only because he didn't know it was a crop duster.

"Strut Jetstream?" Dottie repeated in disappointment.

"Yup! Awesomest call sign ever! It was my idea," Chug boasted.

"That explains it," the mechanic muttered under her breath.

"Hey, airplane, landscapin' was yesterday, Man! Get off the runway! We're racin' here!" Roper shouted when he saw Dusty approaching the starting line.

"Uh-!" Dusty tried to get the forklift to listen, but to no avail.

"Last call for Strut Jetstream! Lookin' for-!"

"Yo, _I'm_ Strut Jetstream!"

Roper cocked a brow in disbelief, "You're Strut Jetstream?"

"Yup."

"A crop duster?! Man, what's goin' on here?! Is everybody gettin' ta fly today?!" The crowd immediately started laughing away at Roper's commentary. "Man, your mamma must've had high hopes for you! Man, you know you built for seed, not speed!"

"You've gotta be kiddin' me. A _farmer_ is here to race?" Ripslinger growled in dismay as Dusty passed by, and he heard every word.

"I'm more than just a farmer," Dusty protested.

"Oh, we'll see about that, _Crophopper_." Dusty's oil ran cold when he heard Ripslinger say his last name.

That confirmed his theory; this really was the Rick he knew and befriended as a child. But as much as he wanted to stop and ask what happened after he left, Dusty turned and continued on to start the race.

And just like any other miracle, it came as a surprise to everyone. With how fast he flew for a crop duster, and how close he kept to the ground as well fascinated them all. But one in particular was more shocked than amazed.

When Ripslinger saw Dusty perform all those maneuvers on the pylons, he couldn't believe it; most of them were just like the moves he taught them as kids. He just couldn't believe he remembered them and why. But Ripslinger was most surprised when Dusty came up to the second-to-last set of pylons for the three sharp turns.

 _After all these years, he still can't get his turns right,_ Ripslinger thought in amusement, reminiscing the times when he tried to teach Dusty how to gain more speed by leaning into his turns. But it seemed he didn't teach him enough.

The Racing Mustang was finally pulled from his thoughts when he saw Dusty make the climb for the big loop, and he saw him start to turn back over while coming out of the loop.

 _No, you idiot, don't turn over. You're gonna lose speed,_ Ripslinger growled internally, frustrated when Dusty still turned back over before even getting close to the finish line.

And as his friends gathered around him and he caught his breath, everyone, even Ripslinger, looked to the board to see if he had a fast enough time.

"Strut Jetstream! Official time is: One minute, twenty four-point-two-six seconds! Sixth place, but what a close one, People!" As cheery as Roper's tone obviously was, poor Dusty was devastated that he didn't at least come in fifth place; anywhere higher than that would've let him into the race.

But it seemed that it just wasn't meant to be.

"Hey, Farmer!" Ripslinger's voice pierced the negative air hanging around Dusty, but it still pulled him out of his grieving, "Come with me, I wanna talk to you."

Dusty's eyes went and he immediately looked to Chug and Dottie for an answer, but they only scooted back and stared off in different directions to stay out of it.

"I ain't gonna stick around forever," Ripslinger warned.

Dusty eventually swallowed his fear and reluctantly followed the Racing Mustang for a cruise down a lone runway, away from the crowd.

"Word of advice: Lean more into your turns."

"W-What?" Dusty asked in confusion, "Y-You're giving me advice?"

"I think you mean, I'm giving you advice _again_."

"Right…still haven't forgotten some of the stuff you showed me, just so you know."

"Oh, but you can forget the one who taught you?" Ripslinger's voice was suddenly much grimmer, and he pulled in front of Dusty to stop him in front of his tracks. "I mean, seriously. No letters, no phone calls, _nothing_. Did you really forget about me?"

"What? You left without any way for me to contact you! This is _your_ fault, Rick!"

The Racing Mustang's eyes slightly widened at being called his real name for the first time in a long time, and by his only friend to boot.

"It's too bad you couldn't show me how much you've improved in the Wings around the Globe," Ripslinger pointed out with a disappointed sigh before heading off to get back to his team.

"Which is exactly why I tried in the first place," Dusty whispered in sorrow, thankful that Ripslinger didn't stop to signify that he heard him.

* * *

 **I wonder if** **Dusty would've tried out for the Wings around the Globe if he knew who Ripslinger really was sooner. What do you think?**

 **Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!**


	3. Chapter 3 - Ripslinger's Wager

Chapter 3 - Ripslinger's Wager

The last time Dusty felt this depressed was when Rick first left when they were younger, and in a twisted kind of way, it was like they were being separated all over again. All because Dusty couldn't prove he was good enough.

Not even Chug's persistent cheering methods could help the crop duster, as he spent the last couple of days just ignoring them and flying over the fields lower than usual. His sorrow really reached out to a lot of people, including a certain war veteran.

But little did Dusty, or anyone for that matter, know that his luck would take a turn for the better today.

While the said crop duster was on lunch break, he took a breather outside of Chug and Dottie's Fill 'n Fly while contemplating a very personal matter. Ever since he failed the trail, Ripslinger was constantly on his mind; the one thing that bothered Dusty the most was what he said. Sure, he was right in saying he shouldn't have blamed him for not being able to get back in touch, but he had the strongest urge to try and make up for it.

That's when he felt the need to look up a phone number or even e-mail address of Ripslinger's, in hopes of actually connecting with him again. Besides, if he can't race with him, why not at least set up a time to have a friendly get together?

Eventually, he gathered the strength to approach a toll phone with a phone number on him, but he still hesitated before inserting a coin to begin the call. It was also then that Dusty was completely sidetracked by a very obnoxious yet familiar voice, so he abandoned his original mission and saw Chug talking with Roper, the exact same judge at the qualifier.

"A-Anyway, I'm lookin' for, um, Strut Jetstream?" Roper began.

"Who?" Chug asked with a dumbfounded look.

"Jetstream. Strut Jetstream."

"Ummmm…nope! Doesn't ring a bell. Ya have a photo?"

Roper's patience was being tried, "Oh, yeah. I got one right here—no, I _don't_ have a photo! I have documentation that says Strut Jetstream lives in Propwash Junction."

Something finally came to the fuel truck, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait a minute! Ok…no…gosh, I just can't-."

"Oh, hey! I'm Strut Jetstream!" Dusty finally intervened in the pointless conversation.

"Oh, yeah, that's right! I knew I'd remember, there he is!" Chug laughed awkwardly.

"Uh, yeah, but…you're mispronouncing it _slightly_ ," Dusty informed Roper.

"I am?"

"Yeah, heh. It's actually pronounced—Dusty Crophopper."

Roper only responded with a deadpanned look, "Dusty Crophopper?"

"Yup. It's…Scandinavian."

"Right. And I'm Egyptian." Roper couldn't help but let out another sarcastic comment, but his face suddenly recoiled in disgust when he took a good whiff of the crop duster. "Googly-moogly! What is that smell?!"

"It's Vitaminamulch," Dusty admitted in shame.

"Vitamina-what?" Roper repeated in great confusion.

"The finest-smellin' compost on this side a' the Mississippi," Leadbottom suddenly joined in, a goofy smile on his face as he smelled the air, too, "Original, Creamy, and Chunky Style. Ah, yes, smell that? Mmm, it's like daffodils and Sunday dinner. Ooh, I just love it, I love it! I got some Minamulch, yeah! I got some Minamulch, yeah!"

Leadbottom finally left the scene while singing a half-baked tune, and the others all cringed at his giddiness over compost.

"Uh, that old airplane needs some help. Ya'll know that, right?" Roper finally spoke.

"Yeah," Chug and Dusty agreed.

"Are you familiar with the racing fuel additive Nitro Methane?" Roper went on.

"Oh, yeah! Zip Juice, Go-Go Punch! That stuff will blur your vision, and slur your speed!" Chug informed cheerfully.

"It's illegal."

Chug was immediately shut down, "I-I mean, illegal. Totally illegal. Wouldn't know what it looks like. You were saying…"

"That substance was found in the tank of the fifth place qualifier, Fonzarelli. Illegal fuel intake is an automatic DQ."

"U-Uh, w-wait. So-," Dusty tried to speak, but Roper interrupted him with a smile.

"He's out, you're in. Congratulations!"

"You're in?" Chug questioned calmly, to which Dusty merely shrugged, but that didn't stop Chug from causing a scene, "He's in! You're never gonna believe this: He's _in_! Dusty's in the race!"

The locals started swarming around Dusty with happiness, all congratulating him over his success. But soon, some of them, Chug and Sparky in particular, started going on about the conditions he would have to fly through; such as, vast oceans, big storms, natural disasters, etc.

All of those things got to Dusty's head, as he suddenly remembered a phobia he has had since he was a child. If he couldn't handle height now, how could he handle them in an international championship race?

"Bad idea," a grim voice reminded Dusty, as he turned away from the map of the course in the Wings Around the Globe, and none other than Skipper entered his hangar with Sparky, "You'll end up a smokin' hole on the side of a mountain with your parts spread across five countries."

"W-What makes you say that?" Dusty protested.

"You're goin' up against some of the best racers in the world, and some of them don't even finish. And you? _You're_ sloppy on your roles, wide on your turns, slow on your straightaways."

"You—you've been watching me?"

"Ha! Watchin' ya make a fool outta yourself! Ya need ta be tighter gettin' in and out of your knife edge…"

"Ok."

"Any extra controlled impute would cost you speed in seconds."

"So, you think I'm overcorrecting."

"Absolutely! Rookie mistake."

Dusty's eyes widened a little a smile crept onto his lips, "Are you giving me pointers?"

"N-No!" Skipper quickly denied, "I'm tellin' you ta forget all this racin' malarkey! You just ain't built for it, you're a crop duster!"

"You don't think I know that? You don't think _I_ know that?! I'm the one who's been flying back and forth across the same fields days after day, month after month, for _years_! I've flown thousands of miles, and I've…I've never been anywhere. Not like you, your were built to fight and look what you did—you're a hero. And all I want to do is to prove that maybe, just maybe, I can do more than what I was built for—not that you'd understand."

That last statement, unbeknownst to Dusty, instantly hit the old war plane right in the heart; Skipper knew he meant well, but he also knew he would have _never_ said that had he known the truth.

"O' five hundred, tomorrow. Don't be late," Skipper grimly informed before leaving.

"Wait! O' five hundred?" Dusty questioned with surprise.

"Yeah, five AM," Sparky chuckled while helping Skipper along.

* * *

This was perfect. Not only was Dusty allowed to compete in the race, but he also had a brand new teacher to, hopefully, learn brand new techniques from; not that his different training didn't come without complications. Skipper continued to critique his loose turns, and he didn't care much for his up and down maneuvers over the trees.

But the _real_ embarrassment came from when Skipper told Dusty to fly up to the tailwinds way up in the sky, and it wasn't he nearly fainted in mid-air that he finally admitted he can't stand heights.

"So, you're a flat-hatter—we'll work on that. But let's see if we can turn low and sloppy inta low and fast," Skipper explained when an idea came to mind, "And I think I know who can help you."

It wasn't long before Skipper and Sparky set up a small flight course to practice on, which consisted of three silos to pass with sharp turns, a barrel roll, and a dive to gain more speed just before the finish line.

"Alright, if you can manage all this, then you might actually have a change ta beat him," Skipper began over the radio, as Dusty was already on his way to the course.

"Who am I racing?" Dusty questioned.

"Careful not ta get caught in my riptide, Dusty!" Following the boastful voice was a green blur that flew past Dusty, performing a loop all the way around him before joining his side.

"Ripslinger?!" Dusty exclaimed in shock and joy.

"In the precious metal! See you at the finish line, Farmer Boy!" Ripslinger laughed and effortlessly flew out in front of Dusty, leaving him in the dust.

"C'mon, beat him to the silos!" Skipper shouted, breaking Dusty's awe-inspired thoughts as his eyes were glued to Ripslinger. But it was enough to snap him out of it, and he sped up to try and catch up with the Racing Mustang, who flew a few good yards higher than him.

"Turns are terrible," Skipper mumbled in disappointment once he made sure the radio was off, and Sparky and Chug scoffed in agreement.

"Faster, Dusty! You're falling behind! Begin your climb, and catch him in the dive!"

"Too late! He's already lost!" Ripslinger taunted as he crossed the finish line, long before Dusty even had the chance to start diving, "Don't worry, it's an honor to lose to me!"

"Oh, shut up!" Dusty snapped and landed on an empty runway, but Ripslinger wasn't far behind.

"You know, you should be thanking me," the Racing Mustang pointed out.

"For what? Putting me up against impossible odds before I get to the actual race? Yeah, thanks a lot," Dusty hissed sarcastically and turned away.

"Look, I'm only here because I'm trying ta give you a fighting chance. But if you don't want my help, then fine. I'll just go tell you're _new teacher_ you're not up for it anymore."

"New teacher? Tch! Now I get it—you're jealous."

"Jealous?! Can't I be here under _other_ motivations? Like checking out the competition, or even visiting my old hometown?"

"I guess so, but only if you admit you really are jealous of Skipper."

Ripslinger instantly got up in Dusty's face, a vicious glare on his own, "You're treadin' on thin ice, Crophopper. Storms and mountains are gonna be _nothing_ compared to me in the race."

Dusty only returned Ripslinger's scowl with a matching glare, "Fine. You _and_ Skipper can help me practice."

"Glad ta hear it. But I'll only help under one condition," Ripslinger pointed out.

"I'm listening," Dusty humored with a suspicious look.

"If you win the Wings around the Globe, you can keep training with Skipper and I'll leave you alone. But if I win—you join Team RPX, and you train with me and me alone, just like we used to. Deal?"

Dusty was silent for a moment, pondering Ripslinger's wager deeply. And then he smiled, "Alright."

* * *

 **W** **ith Ripslinger's help, Dusty may have a pretty good chance of beating him. But is helping Dusty prepare really the only reason Ripslinger is back in town?**

 **Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!**


	4. Chapter 4 - Temporary Coach

Chapter 4 - Temporary Coach

Ever since they struck their deal, Dusty had his head in the game more than ever, much to Ripslinger and Skipper's appeasement. But Ripslinger knew that Dusty wasn't going to make any progress in his current condition, so he convinced him to go see Dottie about some upgrades.

She suggested increasing power by adding torque, and she offered to decrease drag by removing his sprayer; Dusty shuddered at the idea of having his sprayer surgically removed, so he didn't hesitate to go with adding torque to his engine.

But even after the upgrades, Dusty only managed to hit two hundred and fifteen miles per hour, which still wasn't enough to keep up with Ripslinger. Luckily, the only time Rick had gotten to put down the poor crop duster was during training, but Dusty was still infuriated with him every time.

"C'mon, work on the radio g turns," Skipper radioed demandingly.

"Yeah, if wanna catch me, you've gotta catch some decent banks first!" Ripslinger added tauntingly.

At some points, Skipper wouldn't even make him race Ripslinger and instead just practice his turns on the silos. And as his turns got noticeably better, Rick couldn't help but smile at his old friend/pupil's progress.

And although that didn't stop Skipper from lecturing Dusty about the laws of physics, speed and aerodynamics, Rick had his own, more physical, lessons to teach him.

Rick often took Dusty out on a practice flight around Minnesota when Skipper was taking a break, and he wasn't any easier on him than the said war veteran was. Dusty constantly had a hard time keeping up, as his dives and turns were much more powerful than his own, but he didn't back down because he had come too far.

"So, Crophopper, ever thought you'd be practicing with your childhood hero?" Rick questioned with a boastful smirk, pulling back a bit on his power to glide next to Dusty and let him catch his breath.

"Who said you were my hero? Right now, you're just my temporary coach!" Dusty shouted while taking a sudden nosedive, which took Rick by complete surprise. They were originally racing back to Propwash, and Dusty quickly took the lead and won the race with his little trick.

They soon landed and headed to the nearest gas station for a refill on gasoline, and Dusty just couldn't stop beaming with pride.

"Next time, don't underestimate your opponent, especially when you're so close to winning," Dusty stated with a grin.

"You got lucky this time," Rick began before sighing in defeat, "But I gotta admit, that was pretty clever. Just know that no one's gonna be so easily fooled in the Wings around the Globe."

"Thanks for the warning."

* * *

Dusty's training continued on for another week until Skipper finally admitted that his speed and skill was actually getting better. And on one gloomy and rainy afternoon, Dusty would prove to everyone just how much he had learned.

Ripslinger quickly gained first place at first, with Dusty lower to the ground but quickly catching up.

Just as soon as Dusty came up to the silos, Skipper was quick to give him instructions over the radio again, "Use your radio g! Let gravity work for you!"

The crop duster was quick to thrust when entering into his turns, nearly performing a barrel roll over all three silos. Ripslinger glanced back when he noticed that Dusty was catching up, so he began to dive and gain more speed.

"Firewall the throttle! Go, go, go!" Skipper shouted.

"You've got it, Duster!" Chug cheered as he and Sparky smiled brightly in excitement.

Dusty then flew over a field of tractors, easily knocking them over from the rush, and he began to ascend like Skipper told him in order to catch Rick in the dive.

And he did just that. Merely three yards from the finish line, Ripslinger caught sight of an orange blur zipping out from underneath him and crossing the finish line seconds before him.

Chug and Sparky cheered uncontrollably at Dusty's topped his speed at three hundred and seventeen miles per hour, and even Skipper and Ripslinger confirmed the same thought, _He's ready._

* * *

The next morning, Skipper gave Dusty the honor of wearing the Jolly Wrenches symbol, and Sparky was the one to spray paint it on for him. As soon as the air hit the black paint to start drying, Dusty breathed in awe.

"Whoa, the Piston and Cross Wrenches—your squadron insignia."

"You've earned it," Skipper pointed out with a smile.

"It fits ya. It fits ya, Dusty," Chug complimented but was unable to hold back his tears of joy any longer.

"Now, listen. When the race starts and all those planes take off, it'll start up a bunch of swirlies, just like the Wrenches ran into in the Battle of Airway."

Dusty nodded in confirmation at his teachers advice, "Rodger that. Sure wish you were comin' with me, Skipper."

"Just radio back when you get to the checkpoints. I'll be your wingman from here."

"Volo pro vertitas, right?" Dusty quoted with uncertainty.

"Volo pro vertitas," Skipper concerned with a nod.

"Kick some tail, Buddy," Chug demanded with utmost sincerity.

"We're all proud of you," Dottie informed softly.

"Whoo-hoo, Dustmister!" Sparky exclaimed out of nowhere, even rearing up on his wheels.

* * *

The journey to New York was much smoother than the arrival, especially considering Dusty was nearly run over by Boeing 777 coming in for a landing. But thanks to his lucky stars, he managed to not end up on a spot on the runway, as Skipper put it, and get directions to the first check point.

When he got to the pits, he met many new and even familiar faces; he ran into Roper first, who complained about the stench of Vitaminamulch on him and pointed him to his tent; then he met Bulldog, a flyer from England who was too snobbish to associate himself with Dusty; he awkwardly stumbled into the Pan Asian Champion and Mumbai Cup record holder Ishani, but she didn't mind his timid charm and showed him kindness; and last, but not least, the indoor racing champion of Mexico, El Chupacabra, to which to two became fast friends.

And after finally getting his head wrapped around all of the new faces, Dusty was just about to tuck into his tent for the night when he noticed a large crown at the very end of the pits. Sitting above the crowd on a grand stage was none other than Ripslinger, as he was getting a message from one of his crew members.

Dusty was immediately happy to see him again since he left without even saying goodbye right after Skipper confirmed that he was ready. And even though Rick secretly wanted to have at least wished him good luck or even leave with him, his racing alter ego Ripslinger told him it was best to just let him come on his own.

"Excuse me. Pardon me," Dusty pleaded as he gently pushed through the crowd. And as soon as he made to the front, he was instantly exposed not to his childhood friend and crush, Rick, but his most threatening rival, Ripslinger.

"Hey! Look who made it!" Ripslinger greeted, his voice shaky from the vibration of the massager on his head.

"Hi," Dusty greeted back politely.

"Ya know, having you here makes the perfect story: 'Small-town Farmer makes it to the Big Leagues…'"

Dusty was flattered by Ripslinger's compliment, "You bet!"

"…'But tragically crashes on takeoff.'"

He wasn't expecting that. "What?"

"'Wings around the Globe Winner, Ripslinger, Eulogizes the Unknown Hayseed and Scatters his Debris over a Cornfield'—ratings will through the roof!"

The look on Ripslinger's face was something Dusty truly didn't see coming; it was predatory and greedy, and it made him with he had the old Rick Slinger back, not this power-hungry monster. But Dusty knew that all he could do was try his best.

"Don't forget about our deal," Dusty reminded while turning away to leave.

"Of course not! It's like that old plane said—I fly for truth!" Ripslinger reassured loudly. And even though Dusty didn't stop, he was shocked by his words.

If Ripslinger could remember the Jolly Wrenches righteous ways in his most primal mode, then maybe there is a chance they could race fair and square.

* * *

 **Even the most innocent souls can be corrupted by society, and Ripslinger is no exception. But I'm fairly certain Dusty wants to tame to animalistic fire within and bring back the Rick he loves. What will he have to do to make that happen?**

 **Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!**


End file.
